


Just a Name

by NorthernWall



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, F/M, Humor, Mostly-platonic soulmates, Tragedy, canon-compliant character death, rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 05:12:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10429893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernWall/pseuds/NorthernWall
Summary: Companion piece to "Red Eyes in the Snow".Joint training. That wonderful, horrible, time when soldiers from different commands get to mix and mingle. What can go wrong?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princess_j3ss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princess_j3ss/gifts).



> Sorry (but, not really) I made you ship these two. 
> 
> For everyone else, welcome to the wonderful, horrible, world of truly rare ships. 
> 
> Happy reading!

At first, Rebecca Catalina was nothing more than a name on a long list of visiting soldiers. Buccaneer heard her name called as he ran down his checklist, ensuring none of the Easterners had been lost on the Briggs’ mountain, and saw her for the first time as she hopped up with a less than professional “Yoo-hoo!” and a wave.

Her squad leader gritted out a reproof between clenched teeth. Buccaneer snorted into his clipboard. Then she was a name, an adorable grin, and the little wink she shot him when she noticed him chuckling. Her red-faced squad leader looked like he wanted to die, or strangle her. Buccaneer found himself grinning, anyone who could make their commander look like _that_ was well worth getting to know better. Or would be, if he could talk to women without choking over his own tongue and blushing like a bashful schoolgirl.

But then he was slated to combat her in the sparring contest. And he thought he would go easy on her, and it was the stupidest idea he had _ever_ had. She kicked him in the forehead hard enough to give him a goose egg and he saw stars and the wicked flash of her grin as he fell. And the Bear of Briggs reared his head and he leapt up and with a roar he threw her down.

She sprawled on the ground, laughed heartily, and tapped out. And he couldn’t help it, he grinned, because it was the sort of laugh he was familiar with; the same laugh he’d laughed the first time his beloved queen, long before she was anything but a Lt. Colonel and he was a Warrant Officer, had beaten him, soundly in hand-to-hand. And he had laughed because he hadn’t seen it coming, had been amazed that someone like _her_ had been able to take _him_ , and he laughed along with Catalina because he knew, and she knew, that _she_ had seen his blush and misestimated _him_.

He spoke to her a few times during training. It was _fun_ , she was fun. He even managed, sometimes, to untie his tongue and stop his cheeks going rosy every time she looked at him. But then she’d say something completely sassy, and wink at him, and he’d go redder than a tomato and sputter pathetically as she’d saunter away, gorgeous, curly, ponytail swaying in her wake.

-

“Who’s a good fluffer?!”

Buccaneer,bewildered, paused in his trek through the livestock sector to peer down the hall at the source of much cooing. Catalina was squishing a large orange furball, delightedly. After a moment, he realized it was one of the cats they kept to keep the rat population down.

“It’s you!” She announced, ignoring the cat’s mewl of protest. “Ooh, I wanna keep you! I don’t think Lolli and the Duke would approve, though. Hmm.”

“Lolli and the Duke?” He queried.

She jumped, dropping the cat who happily scrambled away. “Princess Lolli and the Duke,” she explained, looking a bit embarrassed, “are my cats.”

“Ah.” He grinned. “Like the Adventures of Crystal Castle?”

“Yes!” She grinned. “No one _ever_ gets that!”

“No way! I loved those comics when I was a kid.”

“Me too!”

He laughed at her enthusiasm, and she laughed at him laughing at her.

\---

And then Grumman delved into their pasts and he broke. How could _he_ even think of liking someone like _her_ , when he had done what he had done? He’d killed, no, murdered, his commander. He was darkness and cold, and Catalina was light and warmth. He avoided her after that. She caught him in the hall while she was meant to be packing up to head back East.

“Look,” she hissed, a kind of deadly serious he had never seen before, “I get that whatever Grumman said to you got you all kinds of rattled. Riza’s gone all weird, too, but you can’t pretend I’m some kind of innocent.”

“I-” and he stopped, not blushing, not tongue-tied, simply unable to say anything to her.

“I’m a sniper,” she crossed her arms and glared up at him, “I’m not the Hawk’s Eye, or anything, but I’m good. I’ve done my time in sandy ruins, scorched by the sun of Ishval. I have killed, Buccaneer! I have watched through the scope of the rifle my enemies fall. Over and over, I have pulled the trigger and watched lives drain away at my hands.”

“Right.”

“I’m just saying, don’t take me for a flower, just because I don’t act all stoic. I’m a soldier, too.”

“I’m sorry, Catalina.”

“Rebecca,” she corrected, tilting her face up at him, and smiling.

“Carlisle.”

She laughed. “That is the silliest name I have ever heard.”

“Miles’ name is Florentinto.” He told her, a bit miffed.

She laughed so hard she snorted. “Oh, Buc! That’s the best thing I have ever heard!”

“Really, _Cat?_ ”

Her brows rose at that. She looked at him a moment, her eyes narrowing, and he feared she was angry, but then she rose ballerina-like on her toes, to accommodate his towering height, and pressed her lips to his. He froze. She pulled away, gave him a grin and a wink, and darted away.

He stood, quite still, in the hall as she skipped away, calling out to her teammates as though nothing in the world had happened. He brought his hand to his lips as though he could keep her kiss there. He fully expected that to be the end of it. There were worse goodbyes, he thought, when he _could_ think again.

-

He was stunned, then, when a letter came for him. Not that letters were all that uncommon, but this one was not from his mother, or his sister. He slit it open, bemused.

 _Dear Buc,_ it read, and he grinned, 

how’s it up there, in the Snow Palace? I suppose you might be a bit surprised to hear from me, but I hope you don’t mind. I promise I don’t go around kissing random soldiers and then stalk them, or anything. He laughed aloud at that.

 _“Sir Duckie (the odd one)-”_ General Grumman, Buccaneer surmised _“-is thrilled with how the games turned out, even if everyone else thinks they went a bit badly. He really, and I mean, really, liked the Ice Queen. Keeps talking about the shape of her--well, nevermind, I suppose you can guess. I feel bad for her, but, at the same time, if it keeps his focus off me for a while, I can only be so sympathetic. Does that make me horrible? Don’t answer that._

 _“Riri is so mad at him. I keep telling her it’s not like she did badly in the games, so no matter if she got a super cool (and unwarranted!) opportunity to show off.”_ Catalina called Lt. Hawkeye “Riri”? He snorted at the thought. _“I’d give anything to get that kind of publicity...well, not anything. Anything that doesn’t violate fraternization laws. She’d be horrified if she knew I wrote that. ‘Lieutenant Catalina!’ she’d say, glaring at me in that Hawkish (Hawk-like? Hawkee?) way of hers, “you_ cannot _just write things like that to an officer you barely know! He’s a_ Captain!’ _And she’d be right, but oh well. I doubt you mind. Unless you do, in which case, please burn this correspondence and don’t file harassment charges. Thanks._

_“Anyway, I thought you might want to hear about Princess Lolli and the Duke. (My mother would be even more horrified than Riri if she saw this--she thinks I scare away all the good men with ‘those ridiculous cats’. Tch! I love my cats, they’re the only thing that gives me joy with this crummy job. Someday, I’ll find a good man and quit, but he needs to love the cats.)_

_“Lolli is a fat, white, cat with too much fur. She gets the worst hairballs and they make her flat little face look even grumpier. She’s adorable. I might be the only one who realizes it, but she is. The Duke is a little black bob-tailed sweetie. He’s dumber than a box of rocks. Lolli bosses him around, and he does whatever she wants because he’s a fraidy cat. Yesterday I came in from work and they’d ripped up this sweater Riri left at my house. Lolli tried to pin it on the Duke, but I know it was her, because the sweater was ugly, and she was embarrassed to see Riri in it._

_“I mean, I was, too. I apologized pretty profusely, but I think Riri knows I left it on a box of catnip. Sorry, not sorry. They did her a favor, I tell you. Not like she cares. She’s all ‘oh, it’s so comfortable!’ and I’m like ‘Girly, you wear that same horrible sweater and those nunskirts every time you have leave!’ If she would just let me do her up once in awhile! And the things I could do for that hair! Oi._

_“Well, that’s all for now, I think. Do write me back, if you don’t hate me._

_XOXO, Cat P.S. I just unpacked and I found a scarf that says “Property of Roy Mustang” on it. I’m keeping it, it’s very soft."_

Buccaneer didn’t consider himself very eloquent, but he put pen to paper and composed a reply.

_“Dear Cat,_

_“The Snow Palace is okay, I guess, very cold. Oh, good--I was afraid I was going to be another in a long line of your conquests. (I’m kidding...Mostly.)_

_"I don’t think you’re a horrible person (I know you said not to answer that, but I am). The Ice Queen has no tolerance for that kind of behavior, so you could always transfer to her command (And now I sound like the stalker, I promise I wouldn’t be creepy.)_

_"I went and asked about that cat you liked so much. His name is Useless, because he’s the worst mouser we have. I brought him up to my room, which he seemed to like, but then the Queen’s Knight came in and caught him--animals aren’t allowed out of livestock--and made me take him back. I tell you, he’s the stuffiest roommate you could ask for. My side of the room is covered in posters and photos, (I’m always getting docked points), but he doesn’t have even_ one _picture up!_

 _"Speaking of the Knight, I’ve been stealing one half of every pair of socks he owns and hiding it somewhere random for weeks. I didn’t think he’d noticed, but then I found my thermals, ALL my thermals, decorating the mess and I know he did it, but I can’t prove it. Worse, I can’t figure out_ how _he did it. He denied it, but then he told me has six siblings and I can’t ever compete! He’s probably right. Ideas?_

_Anyway, I was happy to hear from you. Please write again. Buc"_

They wrote each other frequently over the years. They were friends, and when their paths crossed for training, they’d go for drinks and talk, but they never did date. She was looking for a man to settle down with, and he wasn’t looking to settle down at all. So, they were friends, and a little more, whatever that was. And it was perfect for them.

\---

And then the Promised Day came. Rebecca caught his name on the radios and sweet-talked Fuery into patching her through. Buccaneer laughed uproariously when he heard her hail him.

“Cat! I should have known you’d be involved in this!” He’d laughed harder when she told him to look for her (“I’ll be the only cute one in the ice cream truck!”) “Catch you after?”

“You know it!”

And then it was over. She went looking for him amongst the survivors, when night had fallen, and the work was done. She thought they would go for drinks and celebrate. Celebrate victory and making it through alive. Not even for a moment did she consider the the great Bear of Briggs had fallen. But no one had seen him. Mournfully, Falman pointed her to the shelter that had been set up for---and she couldn’t breathe.

The dead were still being identified, but she didn’t need an official report. The body under the sheet on the ground, on the _ground_ because there was nowhere else to put it, was _him_. He was still smiling. She shuddered, cried, and pressed a kiss to his still forehead.

In the end, Carlisle Buccaneer was a name. A name read by the blank-faced General Armstrong who still had stitches in her face and a sling for her arm, and still insisted on honoring her fallen one-by-one at the mass funeral. A name among dozens. A name on a cold marble memorial.

Then Rebecca Catalina came back after the crowds dissipated, after the families had said their goodbyes, and sat by the memorial. That’s all there was to sit by; his ashes were being scattered in the Briggs’ Mountains. She pulled out her bundle of letters and read them. She laughed, she cried, she _remembered_. She raised a toast. And in the end, Carlisle Buccaneer was so much more than just a name.

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to write pure humor, and then this happened instead. So sorry.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
